Taking off the Mask
by MelissaLianne
Summary: Set three months after TDK. Bruce is no longer the person he once was and is broken. The Joker finds Bruce one evening and decides to teach him a lesson or two about the city of Gotham - and Bruce himself. NOT SLASH. Contains mild swearing. R&R.


**A/N:** _I decided to try and write another Batman fiction – I'm in the middle of updating the others so... yup! This chapter is written in the perspective of Bruce Wayne. Apologies for any typos... the area I'm working in at present is pretty loud._

"Master Wayne, are you going out... _again?_"

I looked directly into the mirror, seeing Alfred hover at the doorway. His expression mirrored both pity and defeat, but his tone suggested otherwise.

"I think I will be, Alfred," I replied, "I'll probably take the _Lamborghini _out too. If that's okay," I added. Instead of feeling like I was in my early thirties, I felt more like the teenager I once was, up to trouble and thus being interrogated about it.

"It's not up to me whether or not what you do is 'okay', Bruce," said Alfred. He entered the bedroom and closed the door with a gentle click. "It's been that way for a while now..." he paused, as if wanting to address several issues but not having the courage to do so.

I adjusted the cuffs to my _Hugo Boss_ suit and raised my eyebrows. "I'll probably to a bar, maybe a couple of clubs."

"Will you be bringing anybody home?"

"Is that really any of your concern?" I shrugged my shoulders.

Alfred fixed the curtains and turned to me with an expression that could break somebody's heart. "It is my concern, Bruce, when you send Gotham into a pit of recession."

"Listen, I can't help being born into a family with a ton of money. What else am I supposed to do with it?" I held up a handful of hundred dollar bills and waved them at him. "Huh? I should be able to spend my money however the hell I like."

"That's true," amended Alfred. He sat down in the leather chair, admiring the sleeping city. "But your parents were more the charitable type, Mr. Wayne... I'm beginning to wonder whether or not their lives were worth your so called legacy." Without giving me chance to answer, he unfolded a new copy of the _Gotham Times_ and brandished the front cover at me. **GOTHAM FACING RECESSION**, the title read, **INTERVIEW PENDING WITH MR. WAYNE. **

"They needn't think they're getting an interview out of me," I said irritably, heading towards the door. "I'll be back around, say, four?"

"I've already agreed on giving them an interview, Bruce. They'll be here at 9am sharp, tomorrow. I've cancelled your meeting with Lucius and rescheduled you one with Gordon. I think it's high time you were shown the statistics. You're lucky they haven't pressed charges!"

I laughed and paused at the doorway. "It's almost like they know I am the Batman. Or was. Whichever."

Alfred remained silent and gave a weak smile. As I banged the door to my room shut, I was sure I could hear him exhale a weak sigh.

--

I decided not to take the _Lamborghini _after my conversation with Alfred – a walk through the city seemed a change of pace, and seeing as the weather was nice that night ... No wind, no rain, nothing. Walking along the twilight pavements I thought over what Alfred had said. It was true I had lost any respect for my alter ego, and it was also true that I no longer cared for the city that I had once protected – but how had I sent the city into a recession? Sure, I enjoyed a few drinks; I dipped into city funds occasionally... well, more than occasional when I was still wearing vigilante garb. The maintaince for that was never-ending. There were always faults, always little mishaps. Still, as long as Lucius was behind his desk, I figured the figures would reset and go back to normal after a while. After a few days of discarding my previous attire, Alfred had become somewhat distracted. It was impossible to hold a conversation with him, and so it was no wonder I gave up trying and visited clubs instead. As I glanced into a shop window, I found myself lost in the past, around three months ago. I leant against the window pane and pressed my forehead to the cold glass, closing my eyes and feeling a connection ignite for the first time in three months . . .

_One morning during breakfast, Alfred had asked me whether or not I would like to go with him to pay my respects to Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent. "I ordered some Lilies – they were Rachel's favorite."_

"_And what did you get Harvey," I replied scornfully, "Posies? Or maybe pink roses?"_

_Alfred ignored my gibes. "Actually, Harvey liked Lilies too. So I got two separate bunches-" he pointed towards the two beautifully wrapped Lilies on the counter, "And I thought we could pay our respects, then maybe go for a walk and discuss what's going to happen."_

_I took a sip of coffee and raised an eyebrow. "Happen? What's going to 'happen' Alfred?"_

"_You tell me, Bruce. Sometimes I don't know whether I'm coming or going."_

"_I'm not going to visit their graves," I replied bitterly. It hurt to even think about Rachel, but Harvey... I shuddered at the memory of him. _

"_It's like you get all of your memories and nightmares and put them in a steel box, locking them down. You won't let them escape. You have become the epitome of your own nightmare, Bruce. I want to help."_

"_STOP PRETENDING THAT YOU CARE!" I grabbed my plate and hurled it at the wall; Alfred remained silent. "YOU DON'T CARE, NOT AT ALL! YOU HAVEN'T HAD TO GO THROUGH WHAT I'VE GONE THROUGH!"_

"_We have both lost dear friends-" he started to defend his path, but I cut across him._

"_NO, ALFRED, YOU HAVEN'T! RACHEL AND HARVEY NEVER LIKED YOU! I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE NAIVE ENOUGH TO BELIEVE IT!"_

_Alfred stood up and walked over to me. He was up so close I could see every line of anguish in his aged face, the teardrops glistening on his eyelashes. "I don't know what's happened to you, Bruce Wayne," he murmured, "But I hope whatever it is that's troubling you will sort out soon."_

"Oh, fuck off! You're not a psychologist, so quit using that reverse psychology crap on me!"

_It was at that point he stormed out of the room and went to the Batcave, I think. I remember looking at my own reflection in the window and wondering, just for a moment, if the problem really was __**me**__._

I opened my eyes, red in the face. My eyes were damp and I blinked several times, my vision somewhat distorted. As soon as the fog cleared, I heard a laugh that had haunted my dreams and a voice as jagged and protruding as a jack-in-the-box to accompany it.

"Well well well ..." purred a voice I had not heard in so long, "What have we got here? Aha, and I thought you were all... wrapped up in yourself Mr. Wayne. Oh, but the press LIES. They all lie, don't they? _Even you lie, Brucey_. Not me though. No time for lying, but do you know what there is always time for? No? I'll tell you . . . games. Play with these people's minds and you've got a chemical reaction. Speaking of chemicals, you actually interrupted my little self here – I was about to pay a visit to that chemist over there," the Joker pointed at a rundown little pharmacy, smirking, "I need something to seal the wound. Fell on glass after getting out of Arkham, y'see." I was too paralyzed to even speak, and so I just stared. "Quite the gormless type, aren't cha? What was I saying a few moments ago – oh yeah! See, I'm the type of guy who just watches the world go by – but I add a little _impact_ a-long the way! Oh, how rude of me. How are you?"

I saw a flash of yellow stained teeth and hysterical laughter and a raised hand before I fell into blackness.


End file.
